


I will die all alone

by Basic_instinct40



Category: The Magicians (TV), The Magicians - Lev Grossman
Genre: M/M, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, This isnt a happy one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:08:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22329844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Basic_instinct40/pseuds/Basic_instinct40
Summary: “The man’s in a better place now, Quentin.” The Monster told him using a phrase he had heard recently on tv. It used Eliot’s mouth to smile at him.
Relationships: Quentin Coldwater & The Monster, Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh
Comments: 8
Kudos: 34





	I will die all alone

**Author's Note:**

> A one shot thats actually apart of a bigger story. Made myself sad writing this. 
> 
> And I will die all alone  
> And when I arrive, I won't know anyone

Quentin could tell you the moment that he knew. The exact moment that he knew he wasn't going to make it out of this situation with The Monster alive. They were standing on the sandy shores of what the Monster called “The Sea of Clysma,” which took Quentin’s sleep deprived brain a while to remember was another name for The Red Sea. 

“You took us half-way around the world to drop a body?” He asked the back of the Monster. The sentence should have felt strange coming out of his mouth, but his tone was only irritated. 

The Monster hauled the heavy body of the dead psychic, a man that Quentin had met only an hour ago, into the waters of the ancient sea. He didn't answer Quentin’s question, instead laughing at the way the bloated body of their latest victim floated up and down with the rhythm of the waves. The Monster turned Eliot’s charming face his way, jutting out a thumb in the direction of the body. 

“Such a massive man this one was, Quentin. We will need something to hold it down.” The Monster tapped Eliot’s long elegant index finger against Eliot’s lips. Quentin drove his eyes away from the stolen mouth and dirty fingernails. He had never seen Eliot’s nails that filthy before. Guilt pooled in his belly as he racked his brain for the last time he forced the Monster to shower or perform other basic hygiene duties. 

“Shit,” he whispered into the cool night air, tears pricking his eyes. His job was to keep Eliot’s body safe until they figured out a way to get this asshole out of him. “I’m fucking this up.” He says it out loud. 

“No, it’s okay Quentin,” The Monster calls out from behind him. Quentin whipped his body around to follow the voice and finds The Monster is several yards away waving his arms around. He directs Quentin’s eyes to several large rocks, wearing a dopey smile. 

“Big rocks, for a big man,” it laughs hysterically. 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Quentin whispers digging into his pants pocket for his pack of cigarettes. When he finds it he puts one in his mouth, but waits to light it, yelling at The Monster to hurry up. “Just--just do what you came here to do and let's go home.” he says without thinking. Turning his back against the wind and the sight of rocks sending a man he had only met an hour ago down to his final resting place, Quentin lit his cigarette. 

He felt no relief as he inhaled, and he felt more of the same grey nothing as he exhaled into the foreign air. Quentin studied the shore and the far off artificial lights that must be civilization. He pushed his brain, his heart, and soul to feel something akin to wonder, and he wasn't surprised when he came up short. What child-like wonder did Quentin possessed anymore? Had he not learned the hard way that magical fairy tales were only pretty lies to entertain children? 

A mythical, un-killable body snatching beast could sweep you away to the other side of the world, but that only meant that you were the damsel in distress, the hostage. There was no knight in shining armor to come and save you, the curtain had been pulled back on all the false wizards, and true love's kiss tasted like regret the next morning. That’s the real story of magic and Quentin felt like a fool for every believing otherwise. 

When his cigarette burned down, Quentin threw it into the sand and watched as the cherry flickered out. ‘Worst body dump yet,’ he thought miserably. He then laughed out loud at himself, comparing where The Monster took him to hide his kills. ‘Worst fucking date Eliot has ever taken me on,’ and laughed harder clutching his sides. His manic laughter turned to tears when he thought of Eliot, not Monster controlled Eliot, but his Eliot. The young man who was his first friend at Brakebills, the sad lost mess of him, but more so and better even, the person he became when they lived in Fillory.   
There was no more laughter coming from Quentin, and he worked hard to breathe past the flashes of memories that held their cottage. He couldn't go into those memories tonight, he wouldn't let himself. That life was finished and now there was this life. Quentin alone, trying and failing every day. It was almost like it had been before Brakebills, except this time he knew what there was to lose. 

The Monster appeared before him damp and wearing that dopey grin again. 

“I am finished Quentin. We can go home now.” 

Quentin’s entire body shivered as he took in the face of his lover. He wanted to stop looking, to stop searching for another jailbreak. Familiar arms pulled him into a tight embrace before Quentin could step back. The Monster would do this sometimes and if it’s touch was not accepted The Monster would lash out in unexpected ways. 

The worst part of these forced hugs was the way Quentin’s body would melt into them. His brain would scream to run away, but his shoulder’s released tension despite themselves. This was his life now and Quentin knew more than most what it meant to lose. To lose a home that you could raise your son into a man in, to bury your wife beside the garden out back, and to grow old with a mess of a man who was your first friend at Brakebills. 

He rubbed his face against the disgusting tacky shirt that Eliot’s body wore and peered up into his hazel eyes. Quentin always liked that Eliot was taller than him. The Monster used the sleeve of his black cardigan that he wore everyday to wipe roughly at Quentin’s tear stained eyes. 

“The man’s in a better place now, Quentin.” The Monster told him using a phrase he had heard recently on tv. It used Eliot’s mouth to smile at him. 

Pulling away enough to fit another cigarette in his mouth, Quentin remembered the state of Eliot’s nails.   
“When we get back to the loft, you need to shower. Alright?” 

The Monster roped Eliot’s arm around his neck pulling him in too close, smashing his cigarette. It was taking them home.

Quentin knew that in life some people were simply losers. They were used as warning signs on the road of life for the rest of humanity to shake their heads at and look upon in pity. He had lost more than one lifetime could hold and now all there was left to do was to walk into the embrace of The Monster. This was the real story of magic. This was how the fairy tale ended. 

There would be no getting out of this alive. 

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think. Thank you to my wonderful writing Discord group who put up with me.


End file.
